10 Open Invitation

Izzy, Tamsen, and Kaelynn walked behind the goal to greet the visitor. Sarimah watched them closely. She didn’t think he was a teacher.

“Sorry,” Izzy said to the gym teacher. “Can we have a break to talk to our coach?” At a nod from the teacher, she turned to Sarimah. “Hey, Sarimah, come here for a second.”

“Are you sure, Sarimah?” Brandt said. “Your team will be missing your three best players.”

“Well, then you better score,” Kaelynn said. Everyone was watching Sarimah as she approached the group behind the goal. The man was smiling, but Tamsen was not.

“Coach, this is Sarimah,” Izzy said, smiling. “She’s the one who made that brilliant pass. She’s the one I told you about the other day.”

“As-Salaam-Alaikum,” the man said.

Sarimah gasped. How could someone be giving her the traditional Muslim greeting? She never thought she would hear Arabic in the schoolyard at Thornton Park.

“Wa-Alaikum-Salaam,” she said, stuttering a little.

“My name is Krisna, but everyone just calls me Kris or Coach K,” the man said. “I’m sorry my Arabic is not good. I am from Indonesia, but I have lived here twenty-five years.”

Sarimah was still unsure of what to say. She could feel everyone staring at them.

“That was a beautiful play, very creative,” Coach K said when Sarimah remained silent. “Where did you learn that?”

Sarimah looked down at her boots. She was a little embarrassed, but thinking about soccer made her braver.

“In the sand in Turkey,” she said. “Playing on snow is almost the same.”

The man smiled. “I suppose it is almost the same — minus the sunshine.”

“That’s what my father said.”

“How are you enjoying Canada, Sarimah? It took me a long time to settle in here when I arrived. I still miss my home often.”

Sarimah looked up at him and smiled. It made her feel good to hear that others missed their homes, too. It made her think of what her family had left behind in Aleppo.

“I miss it, yes,” she said. “But Canada is nice. My friends are nice.”

“That’s very important. I’m glad my players are welcoming you.”

“You are their coach?”

“Yes, I coach the Blizzard. I would love to have you as a guest at practice tonight, if your parents say it’s okay.”

Sarimah thought about playing indoors, with no snow, in the warmth. She couldn’t keep in her happiness. A smile spread across her face.

Tamsen turned suddenly and looked at her coach. Kaelynn mumbled something.

“Coach, we already picked our team,” Tamsen said. “We can’t add anyone.”

Coach K held up a hand. “She will be our guest,” he said. “Tamsen is right, though. We are nearing the deadline to add any players. But this will just be a friendly offer, from neighbours to new friends to make her feel welcome.”

Izzy came over to Sarimah’s side and mussed her toque a little. She was still smiling from ear to ear.

“Besides, Tamsen,” coach said, “it looks like you and Sarimah have a good connection. Maybe you want her passing to you more often?”

Tamsen turned away from them. The gym teacher came over to the group.

“You going to join us, Kris?” the teacher asked. “We’d love to see your moves.”

Coach K laughed. “It looks like fun. But I can’t stay,” he said. “I just came here to drop off a thank-you letter to the school, for supporting our team. I have to get back to work. But I’m glad I came to say hello first.”

Coach K turned and walked back toward the parking lot. Sarimah wanted to scream with joy.

She couldn’t help smiling all day, from the time the gym class ended until the final bell sounded.

When Sarimah got home, there was a bag of clothes sitting outside the front door. Attached was a note. It said, “To Sarimah, thought you might want these.” It was signed ‘Mo.’

Their sponsors had already given them a TV, radio, clothes, shoes and books. But Sarimah’s family had found clothes and household items on their doorstep before. The neighbours often dropped off gifts for them. Once, Sarimah came home from school to find an entire set of dishes, and then pots and pans the next day. They looked like nobody had ever used them. At first, Sarimah wondered how Canadians could afford to buy them such nice things.

Her teacher told her that many families had more than they need. Their neighbours were just giving them what they didn’t use. That puzzled Sarimah even more.

She turned her attention to the new supplies. She opened the bag, expecting to see another scarf or a pair of mittens. Instead, she pulled out three pairs of soccer socks, shorts, and two jerseys — one white and the other green. They said ‘University of Saskatchewan Huskies’ on them. Then Sarimah pulled out running pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt. At the bottom was a set of shin pads and a pair of soccer cleats.

Sarimah upended the bag to get the pads and cleats out. She put the cleats on and wiggled her toes. They were a little big. But wearing two pairs of socks would make them just about right, and leave her some room to grow, she thought.

“Nice!” she said.

“What now?” Her mother had heard her come in.

“Look, Mama. Mohammed left this for me,” Sarimah said, in Arabic.

“What is all this? For football?”

“Yes. Now I don’t have to borrow anything from Izzy.”

Her mother picked up the plastic bag and looked at the handwritten note. Then she opened the bag and peered inside.

“Mama, it’s an empty bag. There’s nothing hiding in there,” Sarimah said, laughing.

Her mother wrinkled her brow at Sarimah. “Don’t tease me,” she said. “Where are you going to use those shoes? You can’t wear them in the snow.”

“For indoor soccer. Izzy’s team asked me to practise with them tonight. I will go with Izzy and her mother in their car.”

Her mother’s eyes darkened. Sarimah realized she should have asked permission first. She held her breath.

“On a school night?” her mother said. “You should be studying. This is not a good idea.”

“Please, Mama,” Sarimah said.

Her mother sighed. “Your father will be home soon. Let him decide.”

Sarimah collected all her new soccer clothes and carried them to her room. She put them out on the bed. She put the running pants and long-sleeved T-shirt on first. They were stretchy and thin. She managed to put on her soccer clothes — shorts, jersey and socks — over them. She still felt like she could move freely. Into her backpack, she tucked away the shin pads and shoes.

She returned into the living room just as her father returned home.

“Hello, Papa,” she said. “I have something to ask you.”